Chương 29: HISTORY AND PROPHECY

The believers were in the mood for celebration. They had just won their first battle—the one that they had been preparing for for weeks. One that their prophet had told them would come. Not only were they victorious, but they didn't take a single casualty. Spirits were high, and everyone had adrenaline they needed to work off somehow. So crates of wine were unpacked from the cellars and thrown in the middle of the main hall like a stockpile of ammunition. Music was playing.

People were chatting, playing cards, laughing, and hugging their loved ones. Some of the women were even down in the kitchen making some special desserts for everyone. It wasn't all elegant, but they were able to make use of some stuff they had in reserve and swiped from the nearby stores. Basic cakes and brownies. One of the believers even slaughtered a cow and grilled up a bunch of steaks for everyone. It was quite the celebration. Everyone seemed to be enjoying it except for T'balt.

He sat outside, far too introspective. He couldn't help but feel like he had done something or was missing something. He was remembering everything that happened before. Were they really over that hurdle? It was so horrific and messy before. Chosa was dead by now, but he could see her inside, having a drink with everyone else. The church was supposed to be a wreck. But he really changed it all. It was actual progress. It was like his fingers wanted to burst at the feeling. He had done something worth something.

But would it even mean anything? What if things got reset again? He'd have to do it all over. What if Monan is just sitting around waiting for him to get comfortable until it's his time to strike? He wanted everything to be okay, but couldn't shake that strange feeling. Was this his good ending?

"Hey," Chosa came outside.

"She was dressed in her casual clothes with a glass of wine in her hand.

"Hey."

"You're a little stiff, aren't you. Sitting outside like a broody teenager."

"I'm just thinking."

"Well, it's over. You don't have to think anymore. At least not for now. They're in there celebrating you, without you."

"Celebrating me?"

"Yeah. They're all safe because of you."

"It doesn't feel like it."

"I mean, look inside… We're two weeks into a deadly apocalypse that's destroyed a lot of the known world. And looking inside, you'd never know it. That has something to do with you, doesn't it? Our prophet. I'm proud of you." She toasted her glass, but he didn't have anything to toast back.

"I still hate being called a prophet."

"Then stop acting like one." She handed him her drink, and he decided to take her advice. Going inside, he got pulled into several activities he didn't know if he'd want any part of. He found Acelin trying to steal some extra snacks even though they were rationing so everyone could have some. He had an armful of candy and brownies, taking them to some hidy hole. But T'balt bodyblocked him. Temporarily getting into his parenting mode, he swiped most of the candy away, much to Acelin's annoyance.

"Hey!" he complained.

"Give that back."

"Not until someone decides to listen to their elders."

"I don't need to listen to you. I can obviously handle myself." He was speaking a little muffled, holding a big ball of fudge in his cheek.

"Yes. You can," T'balt said, tossing him one of the snack packs back.

"But that doesn't mean you can do whatever you want. Listen. I won't take it away from you. You were really cool today." Acelin started blushing, looking everywhere off to the side, obviously not one used to compliments.

"I didn't do anything."

"You saved a bunch of people. You beat the bad guys. You're a hero. But you know, heroes like Cannon out there act like good role models for everyone else. So that means no stealing extra snacks. No hurting people without a good reason. No going off on your own. Otherwise, I'd worry about you, you know." He puffed his cheeks. Not knowing what to say. But T'balt figured he wouldn't have said anything either.

"Well, how about I get you a gift for your hard work? Is there something you'd want? A toy? A magazine? Preferably something that doesn't need electricity."

"A new baseball bat!" he burst.

"Oh, you like baseball… Me too. Then I'll get you a brand new bat." Acelin's face turned skeptical.

"What's the catch?"

"Sure, we can play catch, but we'd have to get a ball and some gloves too, wouldn't we?" This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"No.. I mean… Why are you being so nice to me, mister?"

"Do I need a reason? You're a kid. I'd have to be a pretty bad guy to be mean to a kid." T'balt nuzzled his hair.

"Because you're an important member of my team. So I'm always going to be there for you, and you'll be there for me, right?" Acelin groaned again. He was a cute kid when he was embarrassed. So adult in many ways, but so childish in all the important ones.

"Then swear it."

"You swear first."

'What? You're the adult."

"I'm kidding. You're such a hothead. Fine. I swear. I'll never leave you behind." He stuck out his pinky, and the boy gladly took it.

"I swear too then… but you still owe me a bat."

"Deal." When T'balt went back to the main hall, he saw the funniest sight. A bunch of big, burly wrestlers passed out after a drinking contest with little ol Ellie. Bottles were flying, drinks hitting the table, and Ellie kept drinking, hardly looking over the legal limit. Even Cannon was a victim of her alcoholism as he was passed out with ice cream swirls in his eyes.

"Are they okay?" T'balt asked. Ellie squinted at him. T'balt had almost forgotten that she was angry with him. But she seemed too drunk to remember that.

"Heyyy you… I've discovered something. I can heal my insides when I'm drinking… that way. I can drink as much as I want and clean up the poison in my body. They never stood a chance, but they kept challenging me anyway."

"Mhmm." T'balt had never thought about using the healing loot in that way, but he supposed it made sense. Alcohol was technically a poison, and healing that would mean getting the poison out of one's system. But he felt bad that Ellie was cheating these men into throwing their nights early.

"Wouldn't it be fair if you healed them, too?"

"No. They'll figure out my secret then, T'balt. Then they'll know I'm… a.. a fraid."

"Afraid of what? You mean a fraud?"

"A frack. Fick. Maybe I'm more drunk than I thought." She rubbed her head before slowly tipping over from the red wine. T'balt just laughed before calling the other healers to try to help them out a bit. He found himself laughing at all of it. Almost uncontrollably. Chosa came around swinging off his arm in a great mood. She put another drink in his hand while downing the one she had made for herself.

"To the Redeemer," she called.

"The Redeemer!" Everyone else shouted back, hardly even knowing what they were saying. Cannon recovered from his stupor and lifted T'balt up on his shoulders like they were playing a game of chicken.

"To the reason we all survived the bandit attack!" he shouted.

"Because he foresaw they're coming since day one! The legendary prophet, T'balt Ferrier!" The crowd cheered their waps, wees, and hip hip hoorays. T'balt was just there to soak it all in and take the drinks as they came. It wasn't so bad being on top of the world like this. Then one of the believers asked him, "So what comes next?"

"What?" T'balt bellied out.

"What is God's next great message to you?" The music and loud noises seemed to stop as everyone suddenly had fresh eyes on T'balt, but he was getting too tipsy to realize it.

"I honestly don't know…" Everyone's faces dropped, and the party came to a halt. T'balt tried to think of a way to recover from that blunder, but the best he had was.

"Kidding… the great lord says we must all be merry and that the danger has passed!" The music started again. Crisis averted. He wouldn't be much of a prophet if they knew he had no idea what came after this. So that would be his little secret. He just had to avoid questions like that. But that would all come later. Tonight, as he said, was a night to make merry. He ended up having far too many drinks and wished he'd had a healer to cure his drinking blues.

But it was far into the morning, and he was one of the few who hadn't gone to sleep yet. Many were passed out in the main hall, and the rest were wth their families on the cots downstairs. Chose carried a limp T'balt up the stairs as his feet dragged, making him twice as heavy. But she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she seemed happy from what he could tell. After all that, he felt like he had his good ending after all. She plopped him over on the red bed upstairs.

He tried to pull her down with him, kissing on her in an attempt to keep the night young.

"Tibby, you're too drunk." She giggled.

"Or maybe you're not drunk enough," he teased. She was clearly nowhere near on his level.

"Come on. You usually drink way more than this."

"Well, somebody had to keep an eye on you."

"Look at you being the responsible one."

"Somebody has to. You know, before we left, you hadn't paid the electric bill yet."

"Ugh… I know. You remind me every single time."

"I wonder why…" She laughed to herself.

"You know, you're a Redeemer now, but deep inside you're still the same old T'balt." T'balt rolled over, thinking something was funny. He chuckled a few times, hiding some drunken burps.

"I don't want to be the same old T'balt. I want to be a T'balt that people aren't disgusted with when he walks into a room. The way people look up to me here… I want it to last forever. That's my good ending."

"Well, I'm sorry but…" she said, but her words didn't match her actions. She mounted him, kissing the side of his neck up to his cheek. He closed his eyes, feeling the wetness of her mouth on him. Her breasts brushed against his chest. It was enough to make him forget all. To breathe in this moment, in his good ending.

"Why are you sorry?" She whispered in his ear.

"Bad end, Redeemer." T'balt's pleasure changed to torture. He couldn't contain the blood struggling to escape his windpipe. A searing pain was in his chest. And when he looked up, there was only Chosa and a smoking black knife in his chest. Her smile turned to a look of disgust. Then she relieved the pressure on his midsection, leaving the bed to soak in the redness of his life. He clasped for breath and felt everything start to fade.

"I heard you slept with another woman. I think I'll kill her after you," she said, wiping the blood from her lips and sheathing the black daggers she formed with her loot. The loot she got from where? Then the screams started coming from downstairs. They were followed by the sounds of explosions, crumbling, and a massacre.

"How…" he struggled to say. The door to the bedroom opened. And through it came the devil. Monan. He knelt next to T'balt on the bed, resting his chin in his hand like he was talking to a child. T'balt couldn't hear what he was saying. He was trying for the life remaining in him. But he failed, leaving him with the image of Monan's smile, saying, "I win. Get good, kid." T'balt woke up.

"You died." But he was already crying. The sobbing came full force as his drunkenness had reset along with his life.

"Damn it, Chosa."